How heaven feels like
by sarahmith
Summary: "From the first moment you saw them, those eyes were imprinted in your soul. Blue like the sea was what you thought then. Now you know that blue like the sky is more fitting. The sky. That is what you see in his eyes. Every time you look at him and it's all you can do to not get lost."


From the first moment you saw them, those eyes were imprinted in your soul. Blue like the sea was what you thought then. Now you know that blue like the sky is more fitting.

The sky. That is what you see in his eyes. Every time you look at him and it's all you can do to not get lost. It's probably your look that he still doesn't get the concept of the whole human interaction thing. So he doesn't know what the appropriate time for looking someone in the eyes is. Unfortunately, Sam knows. And really, it was only a matter of time for him to catch on. You suppose you are rather obvious. Too Sam at least. You don't think Cas will ever notice.

And that's for the best right? It's not as if he would understand these feelings. Attraction, desire… love. It still sounds strange. Even in your head. How has it come to that? How does one fall in love with an angel? Was it all the times he has saved you? All the times he has healed you? Or was it just the time spend together. On the hunts, in the bunker. The funny moments. Rare in between. No, you think. That's just when you realized it.

You know now that you had already fallen the first time you had seen these eyes. Blue like the sky. Like freedom. Like happier days. But you tried to deny it for the longest time. Nothing could come out of it anyways, right? But still you allowed the feelings to settle and to grow. You are nursing them by staring, by memorizing every movement, every smile, every word.

And now you are being too obvious. Sam is starting to catch on and he won't leave you alone. Always asking, prodding, provoking. And now even Castiel is realizing that something is going on. And you can't really pray that he won't get what is happening, so you just hope. And every day you hope a bit more. And every day you stand a step farther away from him. And every day you talk less to him. And one day you start leaving the room altogether when he is there.

Your brother told you that Castiel has asked him what's wrong with you. You have no answer. And the pitying looks Sam gives you after that aren't helping either.

Just tell him, Sam said. Sure, that would go over well. Hey Cas, I know you are an angel and all, but I'm in love with you. Let's make out now.

It's not going to happen and you know it. As if someone as pure and gorgeous as Cas, an Angel of the Lord nonetheless, could ever love you. Your soul has been to hell more times than you can count and even so you are probably the most fucked up person on earth. No. It will never happen.

So you shut them both out. You become angry and irascible and you should probably slow down on the Whiskey. But who cares anyway.

Cas cares, you suppose a few days later. You are hung-over, feeling miserable and to be honest you just want to sleep. Or vomit. You haven't really decided yet. But Cas decided now would be a great time to lecture you. He isn't screaming but his voice is raised and you can sense that he is angry. Still the only thing you care about right now is the hammering in your head and please Cas, just stop talking. But apparently he is having none of that today and normally this dominant side of him would be a real turn on for you, but today all you can think about is not vomiting all over his shoes. No, that probably wouldn't go down very well.

And now he has caught on that you aren't listening. In two strides he is by your side, his hands on your shoulders and you feel his healing powers wash through you. You start to struggle because damn it, you don't need sobriety. All you need is that beautiful, alcohol induced haze. The blissful ignorance it brings with it. You don't even mind making out with all those pretty girls, like you did before. Before you knew that they are just plain and boring and could never match with your angel.

But now you are the most sober you were in days and Cas is still standing in front of you. Still touching your shoulders. And when you look up you are looking directly into heaven. Those eyes you avoided like hell for the last few weeks. And what you see in them is a mix between anger, hurt and something else that you don't recognize. So you look down again, burying your face in your hands.

The first tear flows, hot on your face and lonely. But then it's like a dam has broken and you just can't hold them back anymore. Cas is still holding your shoulders and while your tears become less and less neither of you says a word. And what is there to say really. How do you tell someone that you have been treating them like shit, not because you don't care, but because you care way too much? How do you explain all these bottled up feelings to someone who would never understand? So you stay silent.

You don't know how much time has passed but when you look up the anger is gone from with his eyes. All that remains is the pain. And you nearly start to cry again because you are the one causing him pain and you can't even take it away. But there are no more tears to shed so all that is left is to look away again. You keep staring at your kneading hands when you feel one hand leave your shoulder and you stop breathing because you just know. It's over now. He has given up on you. You have to shut your eyes against the new onslaught of tears that are threating to spill down your cheeks.

The touch is the last thing you expect. His fingertips ghosting over your jawline, over the stubble because who cares about shaving anyways. You can feel his hand stopping at your chin, his fingers curling around it, slowly lifting your head. Your eyes are still firmly closed. Breathing becomes a necessity but it's ragged and all over the place, just like your heartbeat. Because he is touching you like that. The skin on your jaw still tingles, shivers running down your spine.

Then he says your name. Dean. One word. But the way he says it, voice all deep and raw, it feels like a different sort of caress altogether. It goes straight to your heart, deep into your soul. And you start to shiver all over again. Open your eyes, he demands.

And you do. And you take it all in. His dark hair, tousled like always. His face, the stubble, his lips, perfect lips. And the eyes again. These beautiful pools of blue. And you drown in them all over again. You just stare. For how long you don't know and you don't care. You haven't seen him properly in ages and you need to take it all in again. Everything. How could you ever deprive yourself of this sight? You can't remember. All you know is that you are too far away from his eyes. You need to get closer. You need to see every different shade, every different line. And suddenly you are standing.

The hand still on your shoulder starts moving awfully slow towards your neck. As soon as it touches your skin you are burning. And then his fingers start playing with your hair and your heart starts hammering all over again. Or did it ever stop? You are in a haze again. But it's not like the alcohol. No. Everything is clear now. And suddenly your hands are on his chest, slowly gliding down to his hips. And for just a second his breath hitches and his flutter closed.

When they open again there is a fire burning inside them. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once and you hope it never stops. He pulls you closer, your hands wander under his shirt, touching his hot skin and you can't believe this is actually happening.

The last words you hear before your world is turned upside are "Dean Winchester, you are an idjit".

Then his lips are on yours and it's rough and desperate and perfect. It's all you ever dreamed of and so much more. Your bodies are pressed fully together now but there are too many layers of clothing. But you doubt that you could ever be physically close enough to him anyway. You need him like you need air to breath. And when you both open your mouths a bit further and your tongues touch for the first time a moan rumbles in the back of your throat.

Later, when he presses you down onto the bed, your naked and sweating bodies pressed against each other, when he is caressing your whole body with his hands and hot, open mouthed kisses, when he is thrusting inside you and your whole body is on fire, then you know what heaven must feel like.


End file.
